Everlasting

“It’s a unique inheritance, I’ll give you that,” Mom said to Dad. From the third story view of the clocktower, we could see the intersecting streets of the tiny town and its rural farms.

“How does someone get elected mayor when they don’t even live in the city or run for office? How do you just leave someone an entire city in your will?” I snarked. I’m not exactly thrilled to be uprooted right before high school because of my eccentric great-grandfather. I had friends, I had a life. I almost had a date with the cutest guy going into the freshman class. Life looked promising until my parents’ jobs were cut and we came back for the funeral.

Dad gave Mom a tight, reassuring hug. “Grandfather Hutton knew what he was doing. You’re going to rock this, Melanie,” he said to her. He cast me a look so direct that it stopped short of a glare. I may be pushing it because I’ve done nothing but pout and snark, if not storm, since I heard the news.

“And with you as an architect, it’s going to be amazing,” she said proudly.

Mom released Dad to give me a hug and sighed. “I know this was hard, Charli,” she said softly. “But I appreciate you guys so much.” Her phone buzzed. “I gotta go to a meeting. We’ll meet back at the house for dinner. Love you!”

“Mom?” I said before she could get too far. “I’m really sorry. Dad’s right. You’re gonna be so great for this town. They’re lucky to have you.”

Dad and I echoed back an “I love you” and watched her bound down the stairs.

As the clock chimed, the clouds and the sun did a slight tug of war. Golden rays dimmed and sparkled over the horizon. In a blink, the highway scene was replaced by dirt roads. Cars transformed to horses and buggies. The stores were now those old west frontier towns you saw in westerns or museums. WELCOME TO EVERLASTING a town signpost boasted. EST. 1900.

A familiar looking girl my age stood next to me wearing Victorian-era clothes and her hair piled neatly on her head. “We’ve been waiting for you. We need your help.” Feeling lightheaded, I gripped the railing. The clock chimed again, bring everything back to the present. The girl disappeared, leaving my father in her place.

“Charli?” Dad demanded with worry as if he couldn’t get my attention. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah…Yeah, I’m fine. I just got a bit lightheaded for a sec I guess.” I glanced back before following Dad down the steps.

Any hopes I had for a quiet family dinner to get used to the new place or process the day were dashed by the post-funeral family reunion. Everyone was glad to have us home. At least my cousin Marina and I would see each other more often. She was my age and we were practically sisters, as close as Mom and Aunt Beth.

“So I’m not sure where to start first,” Mom said as she spread out plans and pictures. “The goal is to transform this place from a ‘ghost town’ of sorts to a thriving community again. So many people have moved and so many businesses have shut down that it’s almost extinct. Everyone on the council has different ideas and interests of course.”

I scooped up the cookies and lattes that Marina made and led her to my room. “Let’s dish,” I said, crawling into the spacious seat of the bay window. It overlooked the garden and apple orchard.

“I know it sucks that someone died and that you had to move,” Marina said. “But seriously, y'all got a mansion. Mayfield Manor.”

“I do love this room,” I agreed. I nodded to the fireplace and canopy bed. I have my own suite, complete with a bathroom. Still looping back to the day’s events, I told Marina what happened today. “You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”

“No,” Marina confessed. “I am so glad you said something because I thought I was going crazy when it happened to me. I was at school. The room shifted to this one room schoolhouse and she was in the teacher’s place.”

“Seriously? Who is this girl? What does she want? And why us?”

“I tried to block that stuff out and be normal. I didn’t want to be some freak. I’ll bring my journal tomorrow. Whoever she is, she’s hard to ignore, but it did stop for a while. Until I heard you were coming back.”

I readjusted on the seat to lean back against a corner. Something come loose beneath me.

Marina and I pulled back the cushion and opened the bench seat wooden lid. On the floor was an antique diary. I pulled it out and blew off some dust. Wiping the cobwebs away, I carefully opened the cover. A photograph was tucked inside. “Naomi Mayfield, 1900,” I handed it to Marina. “At least we have a name to match the face and her backstory.”

“She lived through the flu pandemic, the diphtheria outbreak, World War 1, women’s suffrage…there could be a million reasons why she was saying that. Maybe it has nothing to do with the town. Maybe it’s because we’re her practically her age and her relatives,” Marina said.

I nodded. “She was also a daughter of our first mayor. Right before women gained the right to vote, she was unofficially taking over his office while he recovered from illness. My mom could seriously relate to some of this. Naomi lost the bid to even run for office after his term on account of her gender, though. Someone named Hartwell challenged her and took office. He lost to Hutton in the following election and the rest is history. Listen to this-this was almost exactly 100 years ago to the day.”

“This is ridiculous!” my mother’s voice thundered up three flights of stairs. “You were there! You heard the executor of the estate!”

I tucked Naomi’s diary in my nightstand. Marina and I rushed down the stairs. As we entered the living room, we heard a man clear his throat.

“Yes, Mrs. Jefferson. But I’ve just outlined the reasons why there is a contest to the will. Namely that I’ve never seen that physical document and neither have you. No legal paperwork exists. And the fact that there has to be a proper election to vote you into office. That is the democratic process. You don’t just ‘inherit’ the city office due to lineage and one family dynasty can’t rule it all.”

“This about a family feud that’s gone on for over a century, Hartwell!” Grandpa fumed. “Your family had a shot in office.”

Mom held up her hand. "Everyone in town agreed to this. Those who didn’t are your relatives!”

“Those who approved are your relatives by birth or marriage.”

“Small as it is, we’re not the only two families in town, J.P. The rest of the population had no problem with this.”

“I’ll be filing the petition with the county clerk,” Hartwell said. “We can also address this matter in court. Have a good night.”

“Hartwell,” I hissed under my breath. I glared at my new nemesis as he let himself out, not that he noticed.

“It’ll still take a few weeks,” Uncle Nate said, turning to them. “I’ll represent you and follow up first thing.”

“Thanks, Nate," Dad said.

"Anderson, why don't we take a look at some of those blue prints?" Grandpa suggested to Dad. "I'd love to know your ideas for that empty Main Street building."

I exchanged glances with Marina and we stepped outside into the garden patio. “I think I know why Naomi is haunting us or whatever’s happening.”

“History repeating itself?” she guessed.

“Naomi’s not haunting you,” an elderly woman’s voice said. We turned to find great-great grandmother June smiling us from a porch swing. “Take a walk with me. Let’s chat.” June inhaled a deep breath of fresh air and sighed contentedly. “This is my favorite place.” She paused and stared for a few moments as she gathered her thoughts. “Some people have a special gift for moving through time and space, and our family has that rare talent.”

“Wait, you mean time-traveling?” Marina asked.

“In a sense and there are limits. But yes.”

“So is Naomi alive then?” I blurted.

June was silent for a moment. “No,” she said sadly. “She still died at a young age, just like her diary indicates. She did tell me she was going to leave it behind for you to find. She’s my sister, you know.”

“She dies?” I repeated, saddened and shocked. I hadn’t gotten to that part and I liked her as far as I’d read.

“Spoiler alert,” Marina said, my hurt and disappointment mirrored in her face. “Can we go back and do anything to help her? Is that what she meant?”

“No,” June’s answer was firm and absolute. “Our gift does not work that way and it shouldn’t. We can’t alter the past, we only see brief glimpses of the past when and where we’re allowed. Frankly, I wouldn’t want the burden or responsibility to manipulate events at all. Think of the catastrophes that can happen with that.” June’s gaze held a warning for us not to even think of manipulating this newfound talent’s boundaries. “Our family has never seen the future. No one should know that much. The burden is too great.”

“But I don’t understand how Naomi could still die if the time travel is possible,” I said.

“God’s time for us and the life cycle are what they are,” June explained. “Regardless of where and when we are, each person is born and each person dies. That’s how it’s supposed to work. I know that this is a lot to take in, but it’s late. I’m an old woman and I’m tired. We can talk more tomorrow.”

In the morning I awoke to the smell of coffee. I stumbled down the stairs and grabbed some breakfast. Despite everything, Mom and Dad were full of action and determined not to be derailed. Mom headed to her office, Dad ran errands. I spent time exploring the mansion grounds.

The scent of cinnamon and apples wafted in the crisp air as I walked through the apple groves. The trees were in full bloom. I plucked one from a branch, the perfect blend of red and light gold. Sunlight sparkled through the waving branches. I wiped it on my shirt and took a bite, enjoying the sweet flavor.

“I heard about a mansion He has built for me in glory and about the streets of gold beyond the crystal sea…” Every few seconds, the sound of an apple snapping from a branch and plopping into a basket interspersed with the strong male baritone voice singing gospel. I followed the voice to a tree a few yards away. “’Mornin’ Sunshine!” the man greeted with a bright smile. “This is gonna be one fine crop. A fine crop indeed! We’ll have these out to the grocers in no time.”

“Josiah!” someone called. “Would you bring some of those bushels? I’ll start canning some of the softer ones for pie and butter.”

The wind gusted and the man disappeared. Clouds covered the sky and it became chillier. I looked at the trees that were once lush and in full bloom. Nothing could hang here because the branches were brown and bare. I left the grove and turned right to find tangled berry bushes. One or two managed to sprout but they were withered. Former grape vines now dried to dead leaves encircled a lattice fence. Long ago vegetable gardens were over grown with weeds. Just past the orchard was a sprawling garden square that led in multiple directions. One path took me to a greenhouse, another led to a guest cottage and another led to a little chapel. A gazebo sat in the corner of the yard diagonally across from the chapel.

As the rain started to fall heavily, I ran inside. I stood in the foyer and stared at the immense space before going up and down each floor examining the rooms. Reeling with a million ideas, I grabbed Naomi’s diary and sat down at the writing desk. Marina knocked on the door, interrupting my thoughts. I stopped writing to fill her in and she had stories to swap too.

“When I went to the library to research some things, I flashed back,” Marina said. “I attended this suffragists meeting that Naomi was hosting. I guess that it was just before her race against Hartwell. She wanted to start a university that was free and open to anyone, regardless of their race or gender or anything.”

“She was ahead of her time and that was the problem,” I said, holding up the diary.

Marina followed me as strode down the floors to Hutton’s office. “I wish we could flash back to where he might have kept the paperwork,” I grumbled as I rifled through the desk and Marina searched bookshelves and along the wall for some secret hatch or switch. “If we can turn this place into an inn and get the orchards and produce going, that’d be amazing. Not to mention trying to get a university here. But all of it is useless without that will or deed.”

“I know. There was nothing at the library at all, or at the deeds office. I ran into your mom and dad. They were already looking.

I glanced out the window overlooking the garden to see a group of our relatives in their Sunday Victorian best walking down the path towards the chapel. Marina and I followed them and sank into a back pew. The reverend looked directly at us. “We’d like to thank all of our visitors for joining us this morning,” he said gently with a smile. He glanced out the window and the rain and wind before beginning his sermon. “Outside there are many storms, but God’s presence and his Word provide the help, the answers, in this safe corner that no one can touch…” He patted the huge bible for emphasis and disappeared with the congregation.

Marina walked to the pulpit and smiled. “Of course,” she said. “Hutton loved coming out here every day, especially the last few of his life. And you know, families had a habit of keeping all of their important records in their bibles. Births, deaths, baptisms…”

“The last wills and testaments.” I finished as I flipped to the end of the bible Neatly folded in trifolds were Hutton’s will and the deed to the estate and land. “In a safe place that no unscrupulous hand would dare to touch.”

Mom still had to face Hartwell in an election, but we worked to move forward with the inn/museum, orchard and vegetable crops. I found a little side business for myself by utilizing the chapel, gazebo and part of the garden for weddings and special occasions. Business became promising and getting the venue online definitely opened up doors. It didn’t hurt that the town was dedicated as a historic site thanks to Naomi’s work in the suffrage movement. Marina and I worked to publish her diary into memoirs. We can’t wait to establish the university next. Marina is not sure if she wants to focus on women’s studies, seminary or both. I don’t know which way to go myself, but it’ll be a reality by the time we’re ready to get our degrees.

One hundred years to the day that Naomi had to concede the election to his grandfather, my mom beat J.P. Hartwell in a landslide to become our first female mayor. As the bells chimed that fateful evening, I stood on the balcony of the clocktower looking over my new home. In the twilight, Naomi’s time and space became mine and I could hear her speak triumphantly. “We still have a lot of work to do, but this is a tremendous day.”

Naomi’s voice disappeared and my mom’s echoed as she called to me. She and Dad walked towards me. “You should’ve heard her whole speech the day they ratified the 19^th amendment. It was really something.”

“We came here because of our gift didn’t we? You know what's wierd? I never time traveled before coming here. Marina said that outside of the town, she didn't either. So is it our gift or is there something about this town I should know?"

"There are a lot of things that led us here, Charli, And a lot to talk about."

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

“I wanted to, when you were older. I didn’t think you had the gift until June and I talked. I should’ve known since it runs in your father’s family too. It can be hard and a little scary,” Mom said. “Beth and I had each other, just like you and Marina. I’m so glad you have that support. You’ll be able to pass it along. The four of us will be here for each other.”

Dad and Mom exchanged a look. Mom rested a hand over her stomach. “We think we’ll name her Naomi,” Dad said.

“Seriously? This is amazing!” I hugged them. “Wait, how far along are you, Mom? Are you thinking the baby is a girl or do you know? And because a doctor told you or something else?”

“We don’t see the future, remember?” Dad winked.

We stayed to watch the sunset over Everlasting. I looked into the night sky thanking God for this new place I thought could never call home.

“It’s the most unique inheritance ever,” I said before following my family home.